


Clever Boy

by CathrineMcCord



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Ending - SPECTRE, Fix-It of Sorts, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oberhauser being a little shit, Post-SPECTRE, Post-Skyfall, Q Backstory, and a very parental Tanner, fluff and cats, moraly ambiguous Q, squad goals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-01 20:17:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CathrineMcCord/pseuds/CathrineMcCord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You are a bad liar", Bond says and Q can't help but laugh. It's hollow even to his own ears.</p><p>"You'll find I'm an excellent one, if the need arises"</p><p>______</p><p>When Bond has to decide his faith on Westminster Bridge he thinks that, with Oberhauser at his feet, he finally has a shot at a happy ending.  But just as he turns to ride into the sunset with Madeline, Q collapses on the other side of the bridge.</p><p>And whatever end Bond has imagined, it turns out that this is just the beginning ... </p><p>______</p><p>Post-Spectre fic, where I attempt to explain away all the plot holes that have been bothering me since Skyfall. Get ready for Qs back-story, intrigue and suspense, actually quite a bit of fluff and cats, total MI6 squad goals, Oberhauser being a little shit, a very parental Tanner and a mystery guest appearance.</p><p>Watch the Trailer here https://youtu.be/WZr_YiBKHSA</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Trailer




	2. Made Up Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the lovely Ally (cheekyweemonkey on tumblr) for giving me the perfect start for this story! This is a twist or a new take on a story I published after Skyfall called “Rat under the Apple Tree”. While this story will be very different, there is still one major plot point taken from RutAT, so I do NOT recommend reading that, if you want to stay spoiler free. 
> 
> Also if you want to listen to what I listened during writing, it’s “Out of Bullets” from the Spectre soundtrack.

_ _

 

_Q reads from the blazing screen before him._

_This is all it takes to make his world go tumbling down._

* * *

 

 

As Bond stands on Westminster Bridge, gun pointing steadily at Oberhauser’s face, for the first few seconds his mind is pleasantly silent. There is nothing in his head except the familiar feeling of the gun in his hand. The weight of it, the way the grip feels against his palm, how it looks trained on the man lying on the ground before him.

His first thought is that he should probably feel something other than calm. Maybe anger at the way Oberhauser played him, maybe relief about the fact that it is over now, that he can have a fresh start.

He turns to look at Madeleine.

She is so beautiful, he thinks, the way she stands there, serene grace in the midst of his crumbling life. Oh how beautiful they could be together. She could understand him, the way she learned to understand her father. As long as he would give her time, take her away from it all, she could understand. Maybe even sooth some of the memories, until they would feel like distant smoke at the back of his mind. They could get a house together, somewhere on the coast of France, museums, farmer’s markets, falling asleep under the stars. It could be peaceful. Happy. He would be lucky to be with her.

He thinks he should feel something other than calm. Maybe anticipation of what he can have. But there is no anticipation. Only the distant sense that something is missing, that something would not quite fit in the picture they could paint together.

He looks back at Oberhauser.

There is nothing but calm and the gun that feels so familiar in his hand. He keeps it steady. 

Before he can come to a decision about his imminent future, something at the edge of his vision rouses his attention. He looks left just in time to see Q coming to a halt besides M. Their eyes meet for a second before Bond looks back at Oberhauser.

“Looks like I’m out of bullets ...”

It’s so easy to empty the gun, to not take the shot. To smile and see dread and interest cross over Oberhauser’s face in equal measure. Bond knows that this will mean trouble someday, but for now he doesn’t care. He ignores that as the feeling of something being amiss grows stronger as he turns his back on M and Q, ignores the prickling feeling at the back of his neck. He has done enough. Has given enough. For once he is going to get himself something he can actually have.

His very own made up happy ending.

There is still just calm as he turns towards Madeleine, but maybe that’s just fine. Maybe this is how it is supposed to be now. Maybe he’s finally found peace. So he turns towards her and takes the first step, steady and sure.

Later he will not know why he did it, but he looks back one last time.

The second Bond’s eyes meet Q’s, it’s like he can’t remember how to breathe.  

Q has the biggest smile on his face. And it’s not because they just won, it’s not just a mixture of adrenalin and victory, no, it’s pure adoration. And it’s directed at him. Bond just knows it’s directed at him. Like Q is so proud of him, like there is nothing greater in the world than this moment. Just pure adoration, no buts or ifs.

As Bond keeps on breathing, everything else around him seems to come to a halt. The bridge, the people, the water flowing underneath them. He wants to go the Madeleine, he knows he should want to, but he is frozen in place. There is still the sensation of something missing, but all of a sudden it seems to have come just a little closer into reach.

Bond wishes he could grasp what it is, grab it and take it apart, so he could understand what it needs to make him whole again.

As he is standing frozen, aware that only seconds have passed, but feeling like he has been standing here for a lifetime, he thinks that for now he would already be happy with knowing how a simple smile could render him so speechless. Or why he can’t seem to look away. Why his chest feels like-

From one second to the other the Quartermasters’ eyes roll upwards. The smile fades. Then he collapses to ground as if someone had cut his strings.

Before Bond can figure out what actually happened, he is already running. He pushes past M and falls to his knees besides Q, all in a matter of seconds. If the world was frozen before, it now seems like a raging stream pulling Bond under.

“Q!”, Bond barks, his hand grabbing the younger man’s shoulder.

It comes away covered in blood.

He distantly registers M shouting orders to contain Oberhauser and to get a bloody ambulance, but everything is drowned out in favour of checking Qs pulse and figuring out where the blood is coming from. Just as he reassured himself that the Quartermaster is actually still breathing, Eve drops to the floor besides him. Her eyes immediately fix on the blood on Bond’s hands. She looks as stricken as Bond feels and for a second Bond’s breath catches just looking at the dread in her eyes.

“Oh my god, I didn’t realize ...”,Eves voice breaks and he thinks she might collapse beside the Quartermaster, but she just sucks in a sharp breath and then helps Bond push down Qs coat and pullover to get a better look at his neck.

“What happened?!”, M asks before Bond can. He crouches down a little at Qs side, but doesn’t kneel on the floor, so he can still have eyes on everything else that is going on. Out of the corner of his eye Bond can see officers of the Specialist Firearms Command running towards the middle of the bridge. Eve’s eyes snap up to Ms for a second before she focuses on Q again.

“It must have happened when your car got ambushed.”, Eve starts explaining, her tone strained but professional now that M was just inches away, “ We were right behind you when they spotted us. They started to shoot immediately. They shot out the backseat window, I thought we got out alright, but they must have gotten Q ...” 

Bond pries away more of the coat to see most of the blood pooling at Qs right shoulder. He takes the scarf from Q’s neck and applies pressure.

 “He didn’t say anything ...”,Eve continues and her breath catches, besides her best efforts, “Why didn’t he say anything?”

Bond hears how distressed her voice sounds, but he can’t bring himself to spare her a glance. Even if he wanted to, he thinks he couldn’t bring himself to take his eyes of Q. He seems so peaceful somehow, like he could be sleeping. It’s only the blood that starts pooling on the ground around Qs neck that destroys the illusion. Bond presses his hand down harder on the Quartermasters shoulder.

“Where is the bloody ambulance?!”, he barks, and if he is honest with himself he knows that his voice is just as distressed as Eve’s. But he can’t do this, he can’t lose Q. He doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know how he feels this way, or since when, but he knows that losing Q would break him for good. That whatever is missing would stay missing forever.

He doesn’t feel calm anymore.

He feels like he is drowning in Venice.

Like he is bleeding out a Skyfall.

Like ...

“James, let me have a look ...”

Bond looks up to see Madeleine kneeling on the ground with him where Eve was just a second ago.

“I won’t hurt him, I promise.”, her voice is soft and calm, as if she were talking to a wounded animal. It’s only then that Bond realizes he is blocking Qs body on instinct, making it hard for her to get a better look at the Quartermaster’s shoulder. He relaxes his body slightly and she leans forward pushing his hand aside softly. With practiced ease she pries Qs scarf and pullover aside to get a better look.

“Looks like the shot went through clean.”, Madeleine diagnoses, professionalism overshadowing every other emotion that might have been in her voice. If he wasn’t so fixed on Q, Bond thinks he would be grateful for that. “But he lost a lot of blood, we need to get him to a hospital right away.”

“That’s going to be difficult.”, Eve appears in front of them again, any sign of distress gone from her voice and features. The only thing left behind is determination. “The roads are completely blocked off, the ambulance can’t get through. We will need to carry him for a bit.”

“Can we move him?”, Bond asks sharply, already sliding his arm under Q’s knees.

“If we have to.”, Madeleine looks up to see how far the ambulance is out. Then she gives a quick nod. “For the short distance, yes.”

Bond picks Q up just as she says it, cradling the Quartermaster against his chest, careful not to jostle his shoulder too much. He can’t believe how small Q seems in his arms. How vulnerable. No snarky comments. No bright smile. For a second he feels panic rise in his throat like bile, but then Q stirs against his chest. There is no other movement, just Q seeming to nuzzle his cheek closer into Bond’s chest and then a drag out huff of breath.

“Do one more thing for me, will you?”, Bond breaths, wrapping his arms around Q a little tighter. He can feel the blood soaking into his jacket. “Just hold on a little while longer ...“

The Quartermaster stays still and his eyes stay closed and Bond walks a little faster. Besides him Eve is on the phone with the hospital staff, informing them about blood types and allergies.

When they finally reach the ambulance Bond feels reluctant to surrender Q from his arms to the paramedics, but Madeleine’s hand on his shoulder and the quick sure instructions she gives to the paramedics finally make him lower Q down on the stretcher.

“We’ll be right behind you!”, Eve calls from a little farther off, as Bond climbs into the ambulance. His last look before the doors are closed falls on Madeleine.

There is a look in her eyes he can’t quite place.

Then the doors fall shut.

 

* * *

 

For the first few moments he doesn’t even realize he’s been shot. It only hits him when they turn the car around. A sudden pain shoots through his right shoulder and up his neck, knocking the breath out of him. He thinks about screaming, about crying for help, about panicking. But he does none of that. He gasps, sucks in as much air as he can without going dizzy and applies pressure with one hand. The other keeps on typing.

Later, he won’t be able to recall how he did it. Maybe it was adrenalin, maybe the high of the situation. Probably both. Whatever it was, he goes on. He hacks into the system, stops the program from going online and watches C fall to his death.

He stays calm and focused during all of it.

It’s funny really. He thinks he should feel something other than calm. Maybe panic at being shot, maybe guilt about the fact that so many things leading up to this are his fault.  

But even when they all run up to the bridge, when he can actually feel his shoulder screaming in pain, all he feels is calm.

Calm about being shot. Calm about just seeing a man fall to his death. Calm about the fact that he has been lying to them for months now.

Calm about the fact that he is apparently good enough by now, to even lie to them about being shot.     

As he comes to a halt besides M he thinks that this would probably be a good time to let his boss know that he is in need of urgent medical attention. Then Bond turns to look at him.

And everything stops.

It’s just a second, Bond looks away again in an instant, but it’s enough to keep Qs eyes fixed on him.

He watches as Bond empties the gun, chooses not to pull the trigger. Q knows this is bad, Oberhauser being alive won’t end well, not for anyone, and most likely not for him, but he can’t help the smile spreading on his face.

It’s a nearly involuntary reaction, but he suddenly feels akin to proud, because this is Bond, James Bond, the insufferable 007, who leaves nothing but death in his wake. It is Bond choosing not to pull the trigger, Bond taking the high road and Q can’t help but put all his adoration for this impossible man into his smile.

And he knows this is stupid, because he can see Madeleine standing on the other side of the bridge and he sees Bond turning to her and what was he expecting anyways? It’s not like he wants to be in her place. It’s not like what he feels for Bond right now is anything more than a figment of his imagination, built up by lots of dreams but considerably less actual memories. It’s not like any of it means anything, like this has any relevance to what he should actually be worrying about right now.

But he still can’t help the way his heart is pounding in his chest and his smile spreading even wider, as Bond looks back one last time.

And so he looks at Bond as long as he can, holds his gaze until everything around him fades to black.

As he is going under he thinks about how beautiful the world would be, if this could be the end of his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think :)
> 
> Also if I had this view I would be smiling too  
> https://41.media.tumblr.com/c98e603f4e532ec6e08414cfafad17d0/tumblr_nxt1hcJGgs1s2saeso4_1280.jpg


	3. This Is How It Starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Ally for editing it! 
> 
> I listened to “Don’t Say A Word” by Ellie Goulding.

> [M3PHISTO]:    Such a clever boy.
> 
> [CADEL]:          stop flattering me
> 
> [M3PHISTO]:    But it's true, isn't it? _

_This is not how it starts._

 

* * *

 

 

When Q wakes for the first time, it feels like he is drowning.

It feels like waves are lapping at his consciousness, trying to pull him under. He wants to open his eyes, but his eyelids feel like lead. He doesn’t even try to move the rest of his body.  

Somewhere at the edge of his mind he registers voices, but it seems like ages until he can determine that they are coming from his left. It takes him even longer to be conscious enough to actually understand what they are saying.

He could make the effort to try turning his head towards them, he thinks. But then again it’s pretty easy to decide that as long as he can just float here, painless and calm, he will. He doesn’t need to see who they are anyways. He is conscious enough now to recognizes the voices.

Madeleine and Bond.

They talk in hushed tones, probably not to wake him, most likely not to be overheard. Oh the irony.

“It’s alright …” he hears Madeleine say and her voice is so achingly soft. “It really is.”

“How can you-” Bond starts to ask but cuts himself off. Oh this is new, Q thinks. Bond sounds frustrated with someone other than him. He strains to hear more, but the room stays silent for a long while.

“How could it be?” Bond says after what Q feels could be hours. His voice sounds unsure in a way that makes him sound very young.

“Because this is the decision you made,” Madeleine answers him quietly and her words seem to hold so much more than that simple answer. As if she stumbled upon a truth Bond has yet to discover.

“I’m not sure it was much of a decision at all …” Bond sights and if Q didn’t known Bond as well as he did, he would have thought Bond sounded lost.    

“You made it never the less,” she says and Q can hear the smile in her voice.

“Goodbye, James.”

She leaves.

Bond stays.

Q keeps his eyes closed and let’s himself drift off again. It’s easier than to think about what any of this could mean.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_This is how it starts._

_He is 15 and he is maddeningly brilliant. He just started Uni as one of the youngest attendants ever. In his free time he makes sure everyone calling themselves a hacker knows his name. There is not a single place he goes without his laptop._

_He is also incredibly bored. He can't connect with any of the other students. He hates hearing his real name called from any of his varying foster parents. And then there is the fact that he feels incredibly lost if he isn't able to link in to the virtual world at any given moment._

_Inside his brilliant mind, right beside all the codes and blueprints, there is a void that still has to be filled with the weight of the world._

_And so it's no surprise that he falls for it. Not even to himself, when he thinks about it years later._

_His newest foster family is out to do the shopping when it happens. He sits on his bed, curled up in blankets, balancing his laptop on his knees. His glasses and clothes are very different from what he will wear in the future. The Earl Grey sitting beside him is not. It will be one of the only things accompanying him into his adult life._

[M3PHISTO]:    Do you want to play a game? _

_The chat window pops up on his screen out of nowhere. He nearly spills his tea all over his keyboard, because even when he thinks about it very hard, he can't remember a single time someone made it through his firewalls._

[CADEL]:          how the hell did you get into my system?!

[M3PHISTO]:    Well don't you think you should figure that out on your own? _

_It takes him the whole evening to get the intruder out of his system. The act includes a lot of swearing and placing a chair under his door so his foster parents won't be able to disturb him, as well as turning the volume of his mp3 player up to max to tune them out as they try anyway by shouting through his door. It also includes peeing into a bottle, which, of course, he will deny later._

_In the end none of that matters._

_The only thing that he will remember is that he never felt more alive._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Q always thought waking from a drugged state would be easy. Pleasant. Like floating to the surface of the sea.

This is nothing like that.

Q wakes with a jolt, a shock running through him, until his toes curl and his breath gets stuck in his throat. He opens his eyes in distant panic and everything around him is dragged from comforting black into cold hard white. He has to close his eyes again just to remember how to breathe. There is a voice in his mind that seems to praise him for holding on. A distant voice that he never actually heard.

_Such a clever boy_

“Q?”

A real voice this time. Strong and steady.

“Q, it’s alright. You are alright.”

It takes a few seconds for him to fully come back to reality. But as calloused fingers wrap around his he knows. Even with his eyes still shut against the blinding sea of white. He knows.

“I’m here.”

“007 ...” Q croaks, and oh gosh how long must he have been out to sound like this, “... aren’t you ... supposed to be riding into ... some sunset ... right now?”

He blinks his eyes open again, slowly this time to get used to the light. Bond is sitting right beside his bed in a rather squeaky looking hospital chair. There is still dust in his hair and suspiciously dark stains on his clothes, but someone has made an effort to clean the cuts on his face and wrap them in gauze. Bonds face seems to have more lines than usual, but his eyes are bright and alert. He squeezes Q’s hand.

“Indeed,” Bond says, “But you see, I seem to have misplaced my car somewhere in Rome.”

His voice sounds nonchalantly amused. And maybe a bit relieved.

“So here I am ...”

“So here you are ...” Q says without any point or meaning.

He is exhausted and still drugged enough to only feel a memory of pain in his shoulder. It’s nice, he thinks, this moment in time, the only thing grounding him in reality Bonds hand wrapped around his.

If he focuses hard enough he can see Moneypenny looming somewhere behind Bond, and he thinks about saying hello. Then Bond smiles and squeezes his hand again and Q drifts off before he is able to form another coherent thought.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The third time Q wakes up it’s gentler. He can’t tell how much time has passed since he last opened his eyes, but at least he is aware where he is this time around. He counts that as a win. The panic he felt before seems to be somewhere far away.

He manages to blink his eyes open without too much effort this time. Based on the lack of pain in his shoulder he presumes that the drugs are still going strong in his system and he realizes that even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to do much more than maybe turn his head.

But what does it matter? In his current state it’s already hard to form a coherent thought, it’s not like he is going anywhere.

He blinks again, trying to get the world into focus. He is pleased that the light doesn’t seem to be half as glaring this time.

Then he realizes that’s because there is a doctor looming over him.

Most of his face is covered by a surgical mask; his hair is neatly hidden behind a hospital issued bandana. Somewhere distant Q thinks how odd it is that the doctor’s shoulders are broad and strong like a fighter, but then he finally focuses enough to actually look into the eyes of the man above him and he loses the track of thoughts. 

Even in his current state he is sure he has never seen them before, but still they look overwhelmingly familiar. Bright and alert. They are a deep green and Q can’t help but think about arctic blue ones, which would match them oh so perfectly.

He furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak.        

Then he feels a sharp sting at his neck. It’s like a needle piercing skin and whatever he wanted to say dies on his tongue. A second later it’s over and a hand strokes soothingly through his hair.

“Don’t worry poppet, you’ll be just fine,” the voice is rough and distorted by the surgical mask, but there is a nearly fond lilt to it. For a moment Q believes it.

Then his head lolls to the side and he sees Monepenny slumped in the chair beside his bed.

The world around them starts to move.

Before Q can feel any sense of panic, everything goes black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally I planned for 5 long chapters, but I wasn’t aware that that would take me ages, if I still were to do my full time job. So now it’s 10 short ones and hopefully I'll update more than once a week! Thank you already for being patient with me :)
> 
> Also, should you know who the mystery guest is ... psssst, no spoilers ;)


	4. You'll Be Just Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh it’s done ... sorry for the super late update, real life was a little more demanding than I thought it would be! Thank you to Ally and everyone else for being so patient with me! At least it’s a long one this time :)

> [ _CADEL is online._ ]
> 
> [CADEL]: what up?
> 
> [M3PHISTO]:  Oh, hello there. I didn’t think I would hear from you again so soon.
> 
>  [CADEL]: so? im just bored

_This is the truth._

> [M3PHISTO]: Is that so? Well do you want to play another game?

_It is also a truth that he manipulated the electric fever thermometer so that his foster parents would let him stay home for the day._

> [CADEL]: sure ... whatever

_But that’s beside the point._

 

* * *

 

“Take a left here, Bond.” Firm.

“It would be a lot easier, if you would just give me the bloody address already.” Irritated.

“007, left. Now.” Commanding.

Then “How is he doing, Tanner?” Quiet. Worried.

“They  should take effect in a moment ...” Soft.

There is no imminent answer.

The first thing Q feels is a hand combing soothingly through his hair. A sensation races through his mind, of another hand stroking over his head, a sharp pain in his arm and then black. His brow furrows and for a second it’s hard to breathe. The hand in his hair stops. It stays still until his breath comes regular again.

“Another left.”

No protest from Bond.

Q feels himself shifting slightly to the side and he gets the sensation of falling, but then an arm wraps around his hip and keeps him still. It’s then that he realizes that they are in a car. Tanner, Bond, and him. He has no idea what happened between the time he was forced to close his eyes and right now. It unsettles him more than the palpable tension inside the car.

He takes a deep breath and forces his eyes open.

The first thing he sees is Tanner looking down at him in surprise.

“Thank god.” he says with obvious relief and his lips turn up in a fond smile, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m ... fine ...” Q croaks and he is really sick of sounding so helpless. Of being so helpless. He takes another deep breath, flexes his right hand and feels a deep dull pain rush through his shoulder. Another breath.

First, take stock of the situation.

He is lying horizontally on the backseat, his head resting gently on Tanner’s lap. The Chief of Staff is still combing his hand through his hair soothingly and although Q thinks it’s more for the older man’s own reassurance, he can still appreciate the gesture. It makes him feel safe and at home; the way he only feels home around Tanner.

For a moment his thoughts drift off to a time long ago when he was oh so young and oh so stupid and Tanner’s disapproving look was the only thing that ever made him feel cared for. When he looks up at Tanner’s worried expression now, he wonders how it is that so few people are aware of how close the two of them are. Maybe it’s because he is older now and Tanner leaves him to his own devices most of the time, even if it sometimes comes with a bit of fatherly fussing when nobody seems to be looking.  

Yes, he is older now, Q thinks, but just as stupid.

He stops his train of thought with practiced force and lets his head loll to the side. His gaze falls onto the rear-view mirror.

Arctic blue eyes capture his for a second before they switch back to the road. Q half expects Bond to say something, but the only reaction Q can see are Bond’s hands tightening around the steering wheel. He takes one final deep breath and looks up at Tanner again. 

“What happened?” Q asks, forcing his voice to keep steady. It still doesn’t sound quite right.

“Someone tried to kidnap you.” Tanner answers without beating around the bush and Q is entirely too grateful for that. “From what I gathered they dressed up as a doctor, drugged you and tried to wheel you out of the hospital still in your bed. Luckily for us 007 apparently doesn’t take too kindly to MI6 personnel being kidnapped. He stopped the whole ordeal before they could take you away.”

Q tries to grasp what happened, but for now he only gets fractions.

_Don’t worry poppet_

“Stopped? Is he … the attacker I mean, is he-“

“-There is nothing to worry about.” Bond cuts him of, voice like ice. His eyes stay fixed on the road.

For a few moments the car stays silent except for the hum of the engine. Q is left with looking questioning up at Tanner until the older man sighs. “He got away though. Which is why we are on the way to the safe house now.”

“The safe house?” Q blinks, “Our safe house?” he asks with strong disbelief.

“Yes, of course.” Tanner raises one eyebrow at him. “Now seems as fitting a time as any, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but-“

Before Q can voice his thoughts Bond cuts him off a second time. This time there is irritation clearly audible in his voice. “ _Our_ safe house? Is this why you are letting me drive around blind?” Q watches Bonds hands flex on the steering wheel. “How do you even have a non MI6 issued safe house?”

Tanner looks up for a second and meets Bonds eyes in the rear-view mirror. But instead of answering he just says “Another left here, please.” and ignores Bond completely. Q can’t decide if he feels utter admiration for Tanner or if he feels a little bad for Bond. Then something hits him.

“You have no idea how far Spectre got into MI6 ...”

Tanner looks down at him solemnly. He starts rubbing soft circles into the back of his neck before he answers. “No we don’t.”

Q let’s his eyes fall shut for a moment and allows himself to just breath. He concentrates on Tanner’s hand at the back of his neck, breathes in the fresh leather smell of the undoubtedly new car and lets himself be lulled by the roar of the motor for a couple of precious seconds. Then he opens his eyes and pushes himself up.

“Careful ...” Tanner warns, slightly concerned, and wraps an arm around his shoulder when he threatens to fall to the side again. The world around him spins for an agonizing thirty seconds, but he counts through them and keeps himself grounded by gripping the hand Tanner offers silently.

“I need my tablet.” Q demands and puts as much command in his voice as he can muster. He knows Tanner has it with him. He is always prepared.

“I don’t think this is a good idea ...”

“And my glasses; please,” Q adds, keeping his voice steady and authoritative. Tanner shoots him a disapproving look. Q doesn’t falter, but stretches out his hand. After all, as ridiculous as it may be, at the moment he is the highest ranking official in this car.

“You picked our safe house because you can’t be sure if someone at MI6 would rat out our location. It’s the same with our drive here, who says nobody followed us?” Q sits up a bit straighter and gently moves Tanner’s arm from his shoulder. “Let me make sure no one can find us.”

“He has a point.” Bond interjects from the front seat. Their eyes meet in the rear-view mirror again. Bond gives him a small simple nod and Q can’t even begin to express how grateful he feels that Bond seems to have so much faith in his abilities, even after he saw him out cold a few minutes ago.

There is a sigh from Tanner, but he finally hands Q his tablet and glasses. His lips are pressed thin, but he doesn’t say a word.   

“Thank you.” Q says as he puts on his glasses, but as soon as he holds the tablet in his hands his focus shifts. For the first time since the bridge he doesn’t feel helpless. Like he is floating out in the big vast sea. As he types in the first command a calm rushes over him that he last felt when he broke down C’s system with cold precision. Q flexes his fingers and lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He feels whole again. He thinks he hears Bond chuckle, but it could also be the purr of the engine.

Q definitely feels his shoulder now, the dull pain from before spreading up into his neck, but he ignores it in favour of hacking into London’s traffic control system. It doesn’t take him long to put everything he needs into place.

“Turn right here.” He says without looking up, just as Tanner opens his mouth to probably give the same directions. “I’m going to alter the route a little.” Q says in lieu of an explanation. He makes a couple more keystrokes, and then he casts a quick glance at the man besides him. Tanner is watching him intently and alert, but with quite a bit of worry still evident in his features.

“Walk me through it?”

“I deactivated the CCTV cameras in numerous parts of the city to create blind spots that will mask our actual location, which I’m of course hiding as well. At the same time I created a sort of maze around us out of malfunctioning traffic lights and misplaced police dispatch calls. It will make it nearly impossible for anyone to follow us. The same maze can be found around the other blind spots as well, as to make it exceedingly hard to pinpoint in what area we are in exactly. As soon as we reach the safe house I will delete any activity.”

Q looks up for a second to look at them both and he can’t help a pleased smile. He is actually quite proud of himself, pulling off a hack like that after being out cold just a few minutes ago. It’s quite amazing actually that he-

“Wait a minute ... how am I this awake?” Q turns to Tanner with quite a bit of dread pooling in his stomach. “What did you give me to make me this awake?”

“Uhm ...” Tanner has the good grace to look sheepish. “Remember the compound you gave to the non-agents to only use when we got in a real pickle?”

“That ... is only to be used in extreme situations. Have you got any idea what’s in there?!” Q takes a deep breath trying not to raise his voice. “And it hasn’t been field tested! Oh, and it’s-” he cuts himself of and sighs in deep resignation, “It’s bloody temporary. How long do I have?”

“From my estimation the effects should hold until we are at the safe house.”

“We needed you awake for the drive to be able to move quickly if anything happened.” Bond interjects not very helpfully.

“Bloody fantastic ...” Q murmurs but then takes a deep breath and tries to focus on the task at hand, rather than to panic about something that he has no control over. “Take a right here Bond.”

The car turns smoothly and Q is grateful that at least Bond is listening to his instructions. He keeps himself focused on the tablet and gives directions as they go on. Tanner keeps still besides him and watches him like a hawk. Just as Q anticipated, it takes them exactly fifteen minutes and forty-eight seconds to reach the safe house.

It’s a house in a neighbourhood that’s just busy enough so there won’t be any questions asked, but just quiet enough so you would immediately know if something was off. From the outside it fits plainly in with all the other nondescript houses on the street. But on the inside Q prides himself with having equipped the house with every security measure currently on the market. Or not on the market at all.

He only finished his work on the property recently, shortly before the Silva incident, but it has been in the planning for almost two years. The idea for a safe house had been around for even longer than that. Just as Tanner’s second daughter had been born.

The garage door opens automatically for them, recognizing a command Q gave on his tablet. Bond waits for the door to close again until he motions for them to stay put as he climbs out of the car, gun drawn. Q keeps the tablet lit and ready to use at his fingertips, but looks at Tanner.

“2 minutes.” Tanner tells him calmly, aware of the younger man’s question already.

“I know,” Q sighs. “I can feel my toes tingling already.”

“All clear.” Bond opens the door on Q’s side and offers him a hand. Q would like to refuse it and just climb out of the car in steady confidence, but he feels his head spin slightly from just turning towards the agent. He is proud, yes, but not stupid, so he takes Bond’s hand. 007 pulls him out with ease, somehow managing to avoid putting too much pressure on his injured shoulder. When Q sets his feet onto the ground he can feel the tingling spreading all the way up to his ankles, but before he can even voice any discomfort a strong arm glides under his to keep him steady. In his free hand Bond still holds the gun.

“Well then ...” Tanner says climbing out on the other side. He rounds the car to a nondescript door and wraps his hand around the door handle carefully. After a second the handle flashes green and Tanner pulls open the door. “Welcome to our safe house, 007.”

“Micro dermal sensor.” Q grins up at Bond and the agent flashes him an indulgent smile before he leads him through the door and they follow Tanner up the stairs. Q has to grudgingly admit that Bond is carrying him more with one arm than he is actually walking himself. His thighs have started to tingle. As well as his fingertips. Tanner opens the door at the end of the stairs with another micro dermal sensor, this time with the addition of a retina scanner.

From the corridor they step into they can already see into the open kitchen and living area. Everything is designed as open as possible so you would be able to see if anything was off just as you stepped through the door. There is another set of stairs to their right and two more doors opposite the living room. Q knows that one leads to one of three bedrooms and the other to the connected bathroom. The other bedrooms, as well as another bathroom and a panic room slash command centre, are upstairs.

“In here.” Tanner opens the door to the bedroom and motions Bond to follow him. At this point Q has no illusion about supporting any of his own weight. He can feel the tingling at the back of his neck and on the tip of his tongue.

Q lets Bond manoeuvre him onto the bed and doesn’t even pretend that he is strong enough to do more than lift his head. Oddly enough this is the first time he spares any thought about what he is currently wearing and realizes Tanner and Bond have apparently put him into MI6 issued sweatpants and a sweater that’s a couple of sizes too big for him. It slips his notice that these are probably Bond’s.

Q doesn’t protest as Tanner pulls the blanket over him and sits down at the edge of the bed. It makes him feel weirdly safe. Before his eyes close for good a thought shoots into his head.

“Moneypenny ...” he asks and his thoughts feel panicked, but the words come out slurred.

“She is fine. They just knocked her out. Nothing to worry about,” Tanner answers him, his voice washing over him soothingly.

Q wants to say something else, about green eyes and words just as soothing, but he loses track of his thought as Tanner pulls the blanket up to his chin.

“Sleep now.”

“You are safe.” Bond adds quietly from his place at the door.

The last thing Q sees before his eyes fall shut again is both men smiling down at him. Tanner with fatherly softness and Bond with an edge of something Q can’t quite seem to place.

 

* * *

 

> [M3PHISTO]: How about another game?
> 
> [CADEL]: yes!!

_He types as quickly as he can._

_He gave up faking nonchalance quite a while ago._

 

 

* * *

 

When Q wakes up this time around everything is oddly familiar. As he blinks his eyes open the first thing he sees is the lamp on the bedside table. While he has never actually slept in the bed he is currently in, he still vividly remembers the discussion he had with Tanner over exactly this lamp. Back then he argued that they didn’t need to get a pretty one; it just had to be functional. But Tanner had insisted that the safe house needed to feel as cosy as possible.

He thinks to himself that after all that happened, he should probably feel terrified waking up. But instead he looks at the lamp and wonders if Tanner was right, if the aesthetics of it are really keeping his emotions at bay.

Q pulls the blanket up to his chin and lets out a heavy sigh. It’s more likely that, in comparison to what he imagines is still to come; the events of the past days just seem rather pale.

He indulges in a couple more moments just lying still and getting his thoughts into order. The memory of his failed kidnapping still feels far away and hazy. Whenever he tries to put them into focus they seem to glide farther out of reach. He recalls the tangle of emotions he felt, but they too just seem to confuse him. Logically he knows he should have felt blind panic, but the feeling that bubbles to the surface is more akin to feeling safe.

_You’ll be just fine_

Once he realizes that he won’t get far with sorting out his memories he opts for getting up instead. Getting into an upright position and swinging his feet out of bed is more exhausting then he thought it would be and for a minute all he can do is sit still and take in deep breaths. He uses that time to take careful stock of his body. His legs feel wobbly and weak, like he just came down from a fever, but he supposes that is an after effect from all the drugs that went through his system. Same goes for the queasy feeling in his stomach and the dizziness he feels when moving his head. Still, all of this seems pale in comparison to the throbbing pain in his shoulder.

A look to the little alarm clock on the bedside table tells him that it’s 11 am. He slept for nearly 24 hours. With another sigh Q grabs the glasses Tanner must have left for him and tries to put them on with his good hand. It takes a while and quite a bit of fumbling, but he manages. He doesn’t even think about changing out of the sweatpants and pullover he is still wearing. With his current luck he would probably fall over and need to call out to Bond for help. They are also way too warm and cosy to change out of, but that’s beside the point.

He manages the way to the living room with relative ease despite his weak legs. Everything is so still, his bare feet sound ridiculously loud on the hardwood floor. For a moment Q is so focused on the noise, he nearly startles when he spots Bond sitting on the couch. He grabs the doorframe for support when he notices his legs going slightly wobblier again.

The couch is an L shaped monstrosity that dominates most the living room. Q thinks he remembers Tanner saying something about a big couch being an ideal way to huddle up and wait out the worst, but Q always thought of it more as an extra bed if the place got too crowded. The way it looks now Bond used it as exactly that. If he slept at all.

The agent has a laptop on his lap, probably provided by Tanner, and is sprawled feet up on the long part of the couch. He changed since the hospital, now wearing light grey suit pants and a crisp white shirt. The sleeves are rolled up and the collar hangs open casually. He is facing Q’s direction, but despite the fact that he must have heard him, he keeps is eyes fixed on the screen.

For a couple of seconds Q is trapped in the doorway, unsure what to do, just looking at Bond. It feels as if he hasn’t seen him in years.  

After a while Bond has the good grace to look up at him, a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.”  

“Tanner left a care package from Q-Branch for you on the kitchen table.” Bond lets him know and looks down at the screen again. “Apparently he is going to bring the rest from your apartment later.” Q is not sure if he is grateful for the lack of fussing from Bond, or if he feels slightly irritated about it.

Instead of thinking about it he pads into the open kitchen to see what Tanner has left for him. There is a small box on the table with a post-it stuck to it that reads

 

**_Don’t worry, I’m feeding the cats as you read this!  
– T_ **

 

“Did you look through it?” Q asks over his shoulder.

“No,” Bond lies easily. He doesn’t look up but Q can see the smirk on his lips never the less.

Q can’t help the slight smile that spreads on his lips as he turns towards the box again. It only grows bigger once he looks through the contents of the box. Besides his laptop and various other electronics, the box holds his Scrabble mug and a small rather worn out yellow rubber duck. He takes it out and turns it between his fingers. It feels familiar and grounding and he has to resist the urge to hold it against his chest like he did when he was younger.

Instead he puts it down, takes out the mug and goes to make tea. Before he can move to put the kettle on he notices a pot of freshly brewed early grey. The good kind. Leaves and all.

Q blinks down at the pot for a couple of seconds. So maybe there is a little bit of fussing after all.

He pours himself a cup and takes the first sip right away. His eyes flutter close instantly. It is the perfect temperature. He lets out a deep and happy sigh. For a few blessed moments the world around him seems to melt away into a cloud of peace and comfort. For a few blessed moments all of his problems seem miles away.  Then Q opens his eyes again.

And nearly drops his mug.

Bond is standing just inches in front of him. The agent moved so silently, Q had no idea he even left his place on the couch. He feels his heart beat speed up in a matter of seconds and his hands tighten around the mug so he won’t drop it for real. Bond just looks down at him, arctic blue eyes searching his face curiously.

“How do you feel?”

“Fine ...” Q rasps. His throat feels suddenly dry as sandpaper.

“The shoulder?” Bond asks and for a moment it seems like he is going to reach out and touch Q. The moment passes just as quickly as it came and Bond stays still as a stature.

“Manageable,” Q says. It’s only a half lie. At the moment he can’t feel it at all. His racing heartbeat drowns out anything else.

“Good,” That seems to satisfy Bond and he glides further into the kitchen as smoothly as he must have materialized. Q lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. He can’t decide if he feels more embarrassed about his reaction, or more irritated with having that kind of reaction at all. There is a line between an unrealistic crush on a made up concept of a man and your heartbeat skipping a beat over blue eyes being just a little too close to your own. At least there should be. 

Instead of figuring it out, he uses the time while Bond goes to putter around the kitchen to take his laptop and mug to the couch. Bond’s laptop is still open on the spot he occupied moments before. With his heartbeat still elevated Q thinks it should feel strange sitting down inches from the agent’s spot, but oddly it doesn’t. On the contrary, as soon as he lets himself sink into the cushions he seems to relax. Maybe Tanner was right and the cosiness of the living room is doing its job. Or maybe his elevated heart rate just originated from being startled and nothing else. Q decides it doesn’t matter in the long run.    

He has just enough time to set his mug down on the couch table and power up his laptop before there is a bowl shoved in front of his face.

“What ...?”

“Broccoli and rice. Slow cooked,” Bond explains and puts the bowl in his hands “You’ve been on three different drugs in the last 48 hours, you need something in your stomach other than tea.”

Q can’t argue with that he supposes. “Thank you.”

He takes the first bite while Bond rounds the couch and stretches out on his spot again, balancing the laptop on his knees once more. On the screen Q can make out an array of different news sites.

“What are you doing?” Q asks not bothering to hide his curiosity. Bond taps his fingers on the arm rest of the couch, seemingly collecting his thoughts. Q takes another bite.

“While I was in Rome I observed a couple of very interesting minutes of what seemed to be some kind of Spectre general assembly,” Bond tells him after such a long while that Q wonders for a second if it’s actually hard for the agent to share information like that.

“Since I never got any names, but quite a couple of faces I’m trying to identify the participants of the meeting through cross reverencing the news article of the most recent terror attacks with everyone who could have profited from them.”   

“Smart.” Q nods. He intends it as a gesture of respect, but Bond raises an eyebrow at him as if to say ‘of course’.

Q answers with a shrug, “Though I could probably write a program for that.”

Q expects a snarky remark, but Bond stays still for a while, arctic blue eyes focusing on him. He has no idea what the agent is thinking. Or what has brought this scrutiny on him.

“How did you do it?” Bond asks after a while, his voice unreadable. “In Austria I mean. You had just the ring, but you still managed to find the connection between Le Chiffre, Green and Silva.”

Q fumbles with the bowl in his hands and stays still.

The silence that stretches between them threatens to get heavy. 

He doesn’t even know why he takes his time to answer. There is no reason not to tell Bond. The answer is actually quite logical. It’s not like he needs to lie.

He hazards a sideway glance and their eyes meet for just a second. Something suddenly seems to click inside Q’s mind and he realizes that not lying is exactly the point.

He doesn’t need to lie. Yet. But he is so dangerously close. Because while the answer he has for Bond is no need for concern, everything that revolves around it is a truth that he fears could burn their world down.

“A lot of preparation and dumb luck,” Q sighs finally and lets himself sink into the couch in a show of open resignation. “After the Silva ... incident ... I didn’t only take apart his laptop and brace us for future attacks, I also started to take a closer look into the company Silva might have kept. I figured that, even though he apparently lost it in the end, to get to where he was he must have had a rather well connected Network.”

“Did M know about this?”

“Not really,” Q shrugs and Bond views him with a new found curiosity, “I think he must have suspected it, but he never ordered me to do it at least.”

“What about Le Chiffre and Green then?”

“I connected them through you, actually. All three of them in fact. I couldn’t see the connection at first because I didn’t realize there was one. Only when I had them all in front of me I saw the pattern.”

“Pattern?”

“Le Chiffre and Green were business men. But that was not the only thing they had in common. While needing someone to instruct their operations, like Spectre, said operations also usually involved a high level of technical support. From highly complex band transactions, over secure networks, to crashed stock markets. Neither Le Chiffre nor Green could have done that on their own. They needed someone who understood these things, for whom it would have been second nature.”

“A hacker,” Bond answers the unspoken question. 

“Exactly.”

“So what you are telling me is that Silva was some sort of glorified Tech Support for Spectre?”

Bond says it so matter-of-factly, for a second Q can do nothing more than blink up at him.

“Yes, that’s-“He tries his best not to laugh, because damn, this is a serious topic, but in the end he can’t help the grin that spreads on his face and the laughter that tries to escape his chest. “Yes, god yes, I suppose that’s right.”

Before he can say anything more on that matter though, he hears the click from the micro dermal sensor. He turns around just in time to see Tanner coming through the door that leads to the garage. When he turns around to face Bond again, the agent is already standing up. The smile dies on Q’s lips and he blinks up at him in confusion.

“Where are you going?”

“If I’m to set camp up here as well I need to get a few things myself,” Bond tells him with a shrug and walks around the couch to greet Tanner.

“Tanner.”

“007,” Tanner gives him a curt nod. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He probably hasn’t. “Status?”

“I fed him, but bathing him is your job.” Bond says with a smirk on his lips and pats Tanner on the shoulder in mock sympathy.

Q rolls his eyes at them. “I’m right here ...”

Tanner just sighs. Bond grabs his suit jacket and leaves.

 

* * *

 

_"Have you ever wanted to know who your real parents were?"His therapist asks him from across the room. He wonders briefly if she realizes that he moves his chair a little further from her every time he visits._

_"No," he tells her, because he already knows. Digital birth records are not that hard to find. Mother dead, no mention of a father. And frankly, he doesn't really care. Not anymore._

_"Do you ever crave someone to look up to?" She keeps asking, not satisfied with his monosyllabic answer._

_"No," he says and he can't hide the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips._

_He really doesn't care about any of this anymore._

_By then he has already met_ M3PHISTO _._

 

 

* * *

 

 The first drops of hot water hitting Q’s skin feel like heaven. The satisfied sigh that escapes him is probably louder than necessary. 

“Are you alright in there?”

Definitely louder than necessary. Tanner’s voice is muffled from the running water and the shower curtain between them.

“Just fine,” Q calls back, promptly letting out another sigh when he turns to let the water hit the small of his back.

After Bond had left, Tanner promptly ushered him to the shower, slightly scandalized about the fact that the agent hadn’t done that yet. After all Q hadn’t had a proper shower since he collapsed on the bridge. So Tanner had helped him get out of the jumpsuit and then carefully wrapped his shoulder in plastic so the bandages wouldn’t get wet. 

“Do you need help with anything? How is the range motion of your shoulder?” Tanner asks with obvious concern in his voice. His voice grows a little louder as he talks and Q realizes that he must have moved closer in case of an emergency.

“Really, I’ll be just fine,” Q answers calmly. He can’t help the little smile tugging at his lips. “After all now I can actually say ‘I survived worse’!”

“Don’t joke about that!” Tanner is quick to reply, but there is only fondness in his voice.

Q takes his time in the shower, partly because his shoulder really requires him to be careful with his movements and party because he thinks he damn well deserves a long shower. When he finally turns off the water his head is spinning a little.

Tanner is there to offer him his hand for stability as soon as he takes the first step out of the shower. He hands him a fresh towel and stays close in case Q requires any more assistance. Even though Q knows he should probably feel a shot to his pride by Tanner’s fussing, all he can feel at the moment is thankful for the other man’s calm.

“Now let’s redo the bandages, shall we?” Tanner smiles at him and gently guides him to sit down on the closed lid of the toilet. Q wraps the towel around his waist and obeys silently. The hot shower relaxed his muscles quite a bit so his shoulder doesn’t hurt as much, but the warm water also made him feel quite drowsy. He tries to un-wrap the foil around his shoulder by himself nevertheless, but it’s more clumsy fumbling then actual progress. In the end Tanner grows impatient and takes over for him.

Q resigns himself to just sitting still and watching Tanner work. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t feeling restless. He knows it’s partly because he has been tiptoeing around secrets and lies for months now, that he has been feeling restless since the Silva incident, maybe even way before that. But now it’s not just that. Talking to Bond about Spectre and the discoveries they both made has sparked something inside him. He doesn’t want to call it hope, because he is too realistic for that, but it’s at least an idea. He will still be far from a happy ending, but maybe he can avoid dragging down everyone with him. The only good thing about his secrets is that they are his and his alone. Nobody else will ever know. The core of the problem lies with him and he can make this right somehow.

“I’m sorry …”

Tanner’s voice pulls him out of his own thoughts abruptly. Q blinks up in confusion. The older man has finished redressing his shoulder without him noticing.

“For what?”

Tanner looks up at him from where he is crouching besides him. His smile is apologetic.

“For leaving you alone on the bridge,” He stands up and puts the medical supplies back into the cabinet. “I should have been there, but M had me fence in the authorities and I only saw something had happened when Bond carried you to the ambulance.”

“It’s fine, really.”

“You know I will always be there for you.” Tanner looks at him, his eyes so sincere, Q knows he means it from the bottom of his heart, that he would do everything in his power to keep that promise.

There is a brief moment where none of them say anything. A brief moment where Q can feel his chest constrict.

“Of course,” He finally answers, returning the smile. Then he changes the topic. He needs to. Just like he had with Bond, he is coming to close to dancing around lies again. And it’s much harder with Tanner.

“How are my cats?”

If Tanner is surprised by the sudden change he doesn’t show it. “Still alive. I fed them and instructed your neighbor to keep doing so for the next couple of days,” He laughs softly and shows Q the scratches just under the hem of his shirt sleeves. “They miss you.”

“I would hope so!” Q laughs and drags himself up so he can look through the clothes Tanner brought for him. “And how about Marie and the girls?”

“They miss you too,” Tanner jokes, following him just a few steps behind. A smile spreads on Q’s lips. It feels so long since he visited Tanner’s wife and two little daughters. The smile turns rueful as he realizes he might never see them again. That it would be better for them to stay as far away from him as possible.

“How are they?” Q asks as he finds the duffle bag already lying on the bed in easy reach for his uninjured hand. He pulls out the first items inside. It’s his favorite soft knitted sweater that he never really dares to wear to work and a pair of khaki trousers.

“Nervous,” Tanner moves to help him pull the sweater over his shoulder. “I’m moving them to Marie’s parents at the Cote D'azur for now.”

“Are they leaving today?”

“They should already be on the way to the airport.”

“Then why are you here? You should be with them. Go meet them at airport, say goodbye.”

Tanner looks uncertain for a moment. Q knows he loves his family more than anything, but he is just as duty bound as Bond, or even M. In the end the concern for his family wins.

“Yes,” Tanner folds with a deep sigh. “Yes, of course, you are right.”

“Obviously,” Q smirks then takes on a more serious note. “I’ll monitor their flight and look out for them from here.”

“Will you be alright for a couple of minutes? Bond should be back soon.”

“Yes, of course.” Q lifts his hand to squeeze Tanners shoulder. “Go. Be with Marie and the girls. I’ll be just fine.”

“Thank you.” Tanner smiles and Q lets his hand drop of his shoulder. The chief of staff grabs his coat with new found energy and unlocks the door to the garage. 

“Don’t get shot again!” Tanner calls over his shoulder.

Then the door falls shut behind him and Q is alone.    

For what feels like an eternity to him he just stands there and stares at the door. The only sound around him is the distant hum of the refrigerator. When he finally takes a deep breath again it feels like he hasn’t inhaled fresh air since he woke up this morning.

Right. Another breath. Start again.

Focus. Make a plan. Follow through.

Q takes another breath and decides that, while he is still vague on how to actually accomplish his plan of damage control, he can at least start with keeping Marie and the girls safe.

He manages to find the plane Marie and the girls are on and to set a tracker for the flight on his phone before M calls. He switches the cup of the he poured for himself to his right hand and picks up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“Q. How is the shoulder?” M’s voice sounds as tired as Tanner looked.

“Manageable,” Q repeats what he told Bond. “What can I do for you, sir?”

M doesn’t answer right away. The silence that stretches feels heavy and suffocating.

“You need to come in.” M finally continues.

Q’s breath catches in his throat.

“Oberhauser refuses to talk to anyone but you.”

He doesn’t register the mug slipping out of his hands until he hears it shatter on the floor.

 

* * *

 

_“So what you are telling me is that Silva was some sort of glorified Tech Support for Spectre?”_

Q blinks at him owlishly for a second.

_“Yes, that’s-“_

Then his lips spread into a wide grin. The laugh that follows takes Bond by surprise.

_“Yes, god yes, I suppose that’s about right.”_

Bond is surprised by the thought of _I want to keep him smiling like that_. It makes his breath catch in his throat for a fraction of a second.

Because this, oh god, he’s had this thought before, he knows this feeling. He remembers that, a long time ago, something started with a smile like this.

Bond makes sure he finds an excuse to leave as soon as Tanner walks through the door.

He takes as much time as he can going to his flat and collecting his things, but in the end, when M calls him to let him know they need Q at Headquarters, he returns to the safe house in just under an hour. There is still a job to do after all.

The first thing Bond sees when entering through the garage door, is Q standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring into blank nothing. His phone hangs loosely in his left hand.

Bond’s hand is on his Walther in an instant. He moves further into the house, looking around for sings of any obvious threats. But the house is as silent as it could be.

“Q?” Bond asks voice deliberately calm so he won’t startle the younger man. Or any attackers that might still lurk somewhere.

The Quartermaster doesn’t move an inch. It’s only now that Bond notices the broken mug on the floor. There is tea lapping at the Quartermasters bare feet.

He comes to a halt just inches before Q. He hesitates for a second but then gently puts a hand on his good shoulder.

“Q,” he says again, this time with more emphasis.

Q blinks up at him then, eyes wide.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He looks at his right hand as if confused about why it’s empty.

“What happend?”

“My hand cramped from the pain in my shoulder and it seems I dropped my favourite mug. It’s quite upsetting.”

It’s an obvious lie.

“I assumed M sent you to fetch me?” Q asks him without missing a beat and steps over the mug without giving it a second glance. He seems eerily calm all of a sudden.“Shall we get going then?”

When he looks back at it, Bond knows that this is the first time he should have realized with definite clarity that something is wrong.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome!


	5. You’ll be just fine - ART

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and a happy new year! 
> 
> I am soooo sorry the next chapter taking so long – I did quite underestimate how much time seeing my family over the holidays is actually gonna take up ... 
> 
> But as a little apology and a very belated Christmas gift I have two treat for all you lovely people today! First one is this unbelievably gorgeous picture drawn by the even more amazing Yomikan!! Sadly she doesn’t have a tumblr, but a deviantart -> http://miu-miu221.deviantart.com/
> 
> And second ... just wait 10 more minutes and you will see ;)

_The first thing Bond sees when entering through the garage door, is Q standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring into blank nothing. His phone hangs loosely in his left hand._

_Bond’s hand is on his Walther in an instant. He moves further into the house, looking around for signs of any obvious threats. But the house is as silent as it could be._

_“Q?” Bond asks voice deliberately calm so he won’t startle the younger man. Or any attackers that might still lurk somewhere._

_The Quartermaster doesn’t move an inch. It’s only now that Bond notices the broken mug on the floor. There is tea lapping at the Quartermasters bare feet._


	6. If The Need Arises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww yiss ... it’s a new chapter!
> 
> As always thank you to Ally for editing :)

_He lets his head fall back, only dully registering the ache that comes with hitting the headboard of his bed. He can feel his lip tear where his teeth worry at the tender flesh. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, so he thinks he probably should be acting a tad more indifferent, but damn, this one is a good one. He treads his fingers into the short hair of the man at work in his lap, and just holds on, holds on to the feeling, the sensation and the near blankness of his ever racing mind._

_“Oh shit, Alex –“ the quiver in his voice betrays him, betrays how young he really is. How little he knows about the world. Genius kid, youngest attendant at his university, full scholarship, able to afford his own apartment; now that he earns so much with consulting jobs. None of that really matters, he thinks, as he pushes the head in his lap down a bit more; none of that is really him. He is a concept in another place, under another name._

_He curses himself internally for letting the blissful feeling of nothingness slip, for starting to think again. Not even the obscene wet sound that floods the room is able to tug him under again. He lets his head loll to the side and opens his eyes sluggishly. As soon as the monitor of his laptop enters his line of vision his breath catches._

 

 

> [M3PHISTO]:    Are you there, dear boy?_

_The time stamp tells him that M3PHISTO posted this twenty minutes ago._

_“Ow!” Alex howls in his lap and it takes him a second to register that he hit the other with his knees while scrambling fully upright. He only catches a glimpse of Alex’s confused face before he scrambles to get his laptop._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          im here _

_“Hey what— Oh you gotta be kidding me!“ the bed dips besides him indicating that Alex has moved. He ignores it. There is still no answer. There should be an answer._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          sorry ididn answer_

_“You know what?” he sees Alex pull his clothes on out of the corner of his eye. “This is the third freaking time that this has happened, so this is it. I’m not going to be cockblocked by a freaking computer! You – Hey! Are you even listening?!”_

_He isn’t. Why is there no answer?_

 

 

> [CADEL]:          im here now  
>                          sorry  
>                          m3ph?_

_“Tss, they were right, you know, all of them, you are just an arrogant little kid!”_

_He hears the door opening._

 

 

> [M3PHISTO]:    Hello, my dear boy._

_He doesn’t here it close._

_He can’t hear anything over the frantic pounding of his heart._

 

* * *

 

Q keeps his eyes fixed on his tablet for most of the ride to MI6. After Bond pulled him out of his trance in the kitchen they made their way to the car silently. When they set off Q had still felt the last little sparks of dread pulling at his mind and he busied himself with checking Tanner’s family’s flight on his tablet.

Now, having checked the flight three times over, the only thing he feels is how tired he still is.

The gentle purr of the car's engine is like a lullaby and the soft leather seats seem to embrace him like a blanket. It is blessedly warm and the smell of leather mixed with the scent of another person beside him is really calming.

He leans back in his seat a little more and let’s his head roll to the side. Bond sits in the driver’s seat beside him, radiating calmness like an animal shortly before attacking its prey. His hands flex on the steering wheel periodically as if he expects something to happen every second now. His eyes stay fixed on the road.

For a moment Q watches in new found amazement as the dim light of London plays over Bond’s rough features. His face is painted in so many lines and the system of it amazes him somehow. The leather under his cheek turns from cold to hot as his eyes flutter closed. He always found systems amazing. How the entirety was always more than the sum of its parts.

"Tell me what happened," Bond says into the silence. His voice flows placidly over the purr of the engine.

"I told you. My hand cramped and I broke my mug," Q retorts as he forces his eyes open again. He should be alert for this, he knows. There is a feeling crawling up the back of his mind. A feeling of being in imminent danger. It collides with an overwhelming sense of security.

“You looked like someone just died,” Bond pushes, his voice staying calm and detached. Q thinks about the time he heard Bond torture someone for information. 

Oh, he should definitely be alert for this.

Maybe afraid even.

But there is no panic. Nothing stealing his breath like it did when he dropped his mug in the kitchen. He feels calm. There is peace in knowing your end, he supposes.

“It was my favorite mug.”

“We both know you have more than one of those.”

“Actually, no. Just this one. It was a present even.”

Bond sighs.

"Is it on a need to know basis? If it is I'll stop asking," Bond continues. Knowing it was M who called him, work is a safe and logical assumption.

"It’s need to know," Q answers without hesitation. Bond huffs slightly and Q watches intently as his lips draw into a thin line.

"You are a bad liar," he says and Q can't help but laugh. It's hollow even to his own ears.

"You'll find I'm an excellent one, if the need arises," Q tells him. The truth of this lies so heavy on his shoulders, for a moment it feels like everything around him is slowing down.

But then Bond accelerates and doesn't say another word and Q turns to look at his tablet again. The last thing he notices before he averts his eyes again is the tight set of Bond’s jaw.

 

* * *

 

 

 

> [M3PHISTO]:    You are awfully quiet today. What are you working on, dear boy?
> 
> [CADEL]:          ah, sorry
> 
>                         the code you sent me last time
> 
>                         found sth to improve
> 
>                         do you want to see?
> 
> [M3PHISTO]:    I would be delighted to._
> 
>  

* * *

 

With the old MI6 headquarters in shambles and the new one still an uncomfortable reminder of the events of the past few days, their current base of operations is Q-Branch, tucked away in the tunnels besides the Thames. Due to not knowing how far Spectre actually reached into MI6 and MI5, every operation not absolutely vital to the safety of queen and country has been put on hold. The core staff on duty consists of a very carefully chosen few. Most of them are Q-Branch. Apparently Q’s background checks are the most thorough.

They enter the tunnels through a ramp tucked away in a back alley. Q directs Bond by memory. He knows every inch of the tunnels by heart. They run from the old MI6 building, through the bunkers they retreated in after Silva’s attack and far beyond that into places only mapped in Q’s mind.

M greets them right as they step out of the car.

“Q, 007,” he gives both of them a quick nod and strides toward the heavy metal door without checking to see if they will follow. He is a little bit more put together than Tanner was this morning, but he looks just as tired. From the crane in his neck Q presumes he must have slept on the old couch Q keeps in a corner of Q-Branch. Bond and Q both match M’s pace but one step behind him. “I trust you are both up to speed?”

Q knows for a fact that Bond isn’t, but the agent doesn’t seem outwardly concerned about this.

“This is about Oberhauser, I presume?” Bond asks.

M casts a glance at Q and raises an eyebrow. For a second Q is worried he will make this more complicated than necessary, but then the head of MI6 just looks ahead again and doesn’t comment on the fact Q obviously withheld information from Bond.

“Yes.” M just states matter-of-factly. “As it turns out he refuses to speak to anyone but Q.”

“Excuse me?” Now that gets Bond’s attention. Q looks over just in time to see Bond’s shoulders tighten and his jaw clench. It only lasts a second. Then his body radiates a predatory calm again. He doesn’t even glance at Q.

“We tried getting information out of him in more conventional ways, but we gave that up rather quickly,” M explains and even his professional tone can’t hide the exhaustion in his voice. “He seemed to rather enjoy everything we threw his way.”

They come to a halt in front of another metal door guarded by two heavily armed agents. Q stands a little taller while Bond seems to relax a bit more on purpose.

“Q.” M turns around with a look in his eyes that speaks more of worry than mistrust. “Why you?”

Q looks him directly in the eyes and pretends to takes a second to think. In the end he gives the answer he formulated in his head seconds after M had hung up back at the safe house.

“I would presume it’s a tactical decision on Oberhauser’s part. He knows whoever interrogates him needs to have a high security clearance and, from what he will surely have gathered over the last few days, will most likely be one of the five people who where directly responsible for his downfall. Since 007, Tanner, Ms. Moneypenny and you are trained in interrogating an asset, I’m his safest bet.”

“You think he will try to extort information from you?” Bond’s voice is as calm as it was in the car, but his eyes are as alert as they will ever be.

“I have a high security clearance, but next to no training, so yes, that is what I think,” Q gives a small shrug with his good shoulder. “If I was in his place I would have picked me as well.”

“Can you handle it?” M asks solemnly and takes a deep breath before he adds, “I need you to handle it.”

“Of course.”

“Good,” M seems to relax visibly. “Report to Medical, they have set up shop just beside your branch. I want your arm in a proper sling. Only report to me after they clear you.”

Q thinks about arguing for a second, but M’s tone of voice leaves no room for protest. Bond seems to come to the same conclusion.

“Don’t worry, sir. I will escort our dear Quartermaster personally.” Bond smirks casually and a hand finds its way to the small of Q’s back. M nods his goodbye and Bond nudges him in the right direction, the hand on his back gentle but firm. He thinks about giving directions, but it suddenly occurs to him that Bond probably has a fairly good grasp on the tunnel layouts himself. So Q stays silent and follows the direction of Bond’s hand without protest.

When they reach medical the doctor on duty is nearly ecstatic to see him. Bond raises an eyebrow at Q and instinctively takes a step closer as the short blond woman dashes towards them.

“Quartermaster!” She comes to an abrupt halt in front of them and takes Qs good hand. “I’m so relieved to see you. I read the hospital report of course, but still ... I’m just glad you are ok!”

“Thank you Dr. Roth.” Q returns her smile and then turns to Bond. “Since biomedical engineering became a thing it’s no seldom occurrence for Q-Branch and Medical to work on joint projects.”

“I developed your smart blood, actually.” Dr. Roth taps Bonds arm with a proud smile, before turning to Q again. “Now, let’s see to your arm shall we?”

She takes his hand again to gently pull him into the room and sit him down on an examination table. She moves to help Q with pulling his sweater over his head, but stops as they reach his t-shirt. She looks between him and Bond. “Would you like to wait outside Mr. Bond?” she asks finally and it might be formulated as a question, but it sounds like a command.

“I’d rather stay.” Bond says all calm and charming smile and moves further into the room. Q can see Dr. Roth’s inner battle between giving in to Bond’s charming smile and protecting the interests of her patient. He takes the decision out of her hands. With things being as they are now they are going to be in the safe house for quite some time and Tanner won’t always be there to help him, so it’s better Bond gets to see how it’s done properly now.

“It’s quite alright Emilia.” Q tells her with a smile of his own. Dr. Roth blinks at him for a second, but then just helps him out of the shirt without further comment. In the end she apparently comes to the same conclusion as Q and starts explaining her steps to Bond as she carefully un-wraps the bandages on Qs shoulder.

Only once Dr. Roth goes to collect fresh medical supplies does Q realize how close Bond has moved during the explanation. He feels the dip of the examination table where Bond leans casually against it and the heat radiating from the agent. Outwardly Bond seems utterly relaxed, hands in his pockets and casual smirk on his lips, but Q can see the muscles flex in his arms and the way his eyes dart between the exits. Q wonders if anyone else notices it. Bond feels uncomfortable here. Of course he does.

“Don’t worry,” Q teases and nudges him with his bare left shoulder. “They won’t keep you here just because you have to play my temporary bodyguard.”

Bond gives a low chuckle at that, but doesn’t comment. “That looks ghastly.” He says instead, nodding towards Qs right shoulder.

“You’ve seen worse.” Q retorts easily. While it still hurts like hell, it is really not that bad.

Bond flashes him a wistful smile but stays silent.

Dr. Roth returns with the medical supplies, but Bond doesn’t move an inch. She seems to accept this with silent resignation and lays out the supplies neatly beside Q. Bond watches her like a hawk but instead of commenting on it Dr. Roth picks up her explanations again.

“I need to clean the wound and disinfect it to prevent infection,” She says and gives Q a sympatric smile. “This will hurt. I can give you a local anaesthetic, but I’m afraid it will take about 30 minutes to take effect.”

“It’s fine, I won’t need it,” Q tells her. With Oberhauser waiting to be questioned by him it feels inappropriate to wait 30 minutes for something that will take only 10. “I survived being shot. How bad can this be?” Q jokes and he is not sure if he is doing it for his or her benefit. Maybe it’s to show Bond that hovering is unnecessary.

“What about painkillers in general?” Bond interjects with a casually curious tone. From the corner of his eye Q can see another flex of muscle.

“If at all possible I would prefer to avoid them,” Q answers before Dr. Roth can even open her mouth. Both heads turn to him, brows furrowed in confusion and disapproval. Q sighs. “They cloud my mind, make me sleepy and slow. I can’t afford that right now.”

Bond’s expression stays disapproving at that, but Q can also see something akin to respect as he meets his expression and gives a small nod.

Dr. Roth seems less accepting, but she nods as well. She’s known him long enough to know when not to argue. “I will give you some anyway. Take them at your own discretion. You will need antibiotics though. And a sling for your arm.” 

Q won’t argue with that. He can still make his own rules later on. Instead he watches as Dr. Roth dips cotton pads into disinfectant while giving him another sympathetic look. Q gives her a small reassuring smile and then braces himself by taking a deep breath. He holds it, already concentrating on the impending rush of air that will leave his lungs once the pain hits. First rule of dealing with pain – focus on something else. Focus on something you know, something close to you, on something important...

The air is knocked out of Q’s lungs before Dr. Roth can get anywhere near his shoulder.

The only sensation he feels is Bonds calloused hand resting at the back of his neck.

He has just enough time to look up at Bond before the agent wraps the fingers of his other hand around Q’s good hand as well. He expects Bond’s face to be some kind of mask, be it concern or playful mischief, but what he sees can only be described as open. As open as he has ever seen the other man. And he can’t even quantify it, can’t put his finger on what the expression actually consists of, or what makes it feel so intimate, but Bond says “Focus on me,” as if it is the most logical thing in the world. And Q does.

He still feels the pain rush through his shoulder in a sudden burst and his breath stutters for a second, but Bond squeezes his hand until his breath evens out again. They continue the routine with every burst of pain until Q’s fingers wrap around Bond’s on their own accord and the only sensation he really feels anymore are the agent’s fingers combing through the hair at the back of his neck.

It’s a while until Dr. Roth announces that she is done and while Bond has to drop his fingers from Q’s neck in favour of her applying new bandages, he still never let’s go of Q’s hand.

 

* * *

 

 

 

> [M3PHISTO]:    Your coding is quite off today. Is something the matter?
> 
> [CADEL]:          no its fine
> 
>                         nothing wrong, just tired
> 
> [M3PHISTO]:    Dear boy, I saw you code after you've been awake for 48 hours and it was still  
>                          brilliant. So what is the matter? _

_He clenches his fists and pushes away the laptop a little bit. This is stupid. He is 17 now. Things like this shouldn't bother him anymore._

_He sighs. But they still do._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          uni is horrible i don't fit in at all and its so boring
> 
> [M3PHISTO]:    I wasn't aware of the fact that you wanted to fit in.
> 
> [CADEL]:          idont
> 
>                         not really
> 
> [M3PHISTO]:    Then why does it bother you?
> 
> [CADEL]:          because they make me feel like im an idiot and like im powerless just  
>                          because im  younger _

_There is a long pause after that. The feeling that he said something wrong is growing so strong that it nearly takes his breath. He realizes with a startling clarity that it would probably crush him if he loses_ M3PHISTO _. Then again, he’s probably known that for quite a while now._

 

 

> [M3PHISTO]:    Do you want to learn how to be powerful?

_He lets out a breath of relief and nearly knocks over his mug of tea to hectically type his answer._

_That semester most of his colleagues mysteriously fail their midterm exams._

_From there, it's a fairly easy step to ruining credit scores._

 

* * *

 

“Mr. Oberhauser, I believe we haven’t yet been formally introduced,” Q’s voice is calm and steady as he enters the interrogation room. His right arm sits comfortably in a sling and even his left hand holding his tablet is relaxed. “You can call me Q.”

“No we haven’t been. Which is a shame, really. I’ve heard so much about you!” Oberhauser’s smile is open and friendly. In combination with the thick bandage wrapped around his right eye he radiates an aura of innocence.

What gives him away is the mischievous glint in his eye. That little glimpse into an abyss of ruthless cold. Q can see how he could be terrifying.

“Only good I hope?” He asks and returns the smile as he takes a seat opposite Oberhauser. The head of Spectre leans a little closer.

“Oh, only the highest praise I can assure you.”

“Well then,” Q sits a little straighter and places the tablet neatly in front of himself, “What can I do for you?”

“Well, this and that, a number of things really, but for all of that it’s still too early I’m afraid,” Oberhauser’s handcuffs drag against the table as he folds his hands in front of him. “For now there is only one thing I would like to know.”

There is a lilt to Oberhauser’s voice that makes Q feel as if someone is holding a gun to the back of his head. He makes sure to keep his breathing calm and level.

“And what would that be?”

Oberhauser casts a quick glance to the two way mirror beside them and then leans forward until his handcuffs dig visibly into his wrists. The smile on his face is positively gleeful.

“Do they know what a clever boy you are?”

 

* * *

 

 

 

>  [M3PHISTO]: Oh my clever, clever boy … I cannot wait to see how the world will lie at your feet.

 

* * *

 

M is in Q’s personal space as soon as he enters the room on the other side of the two way mirror. He backs up exactly two and a half steps before his back hits the steel door. Q can do nothing more than tilt his head up at the head of MI6 and wait. His eyes are wide behind his glasses, but his pulse is as steady as it was just seconds ago.

“What on earth was that?!” M’s posture is menacing, but what actually makes Q’s skin crawl is the others level voice. He’s heard that voice before. Back when M was accusing C of his crimes. The only difference now is the conflicting emotions displayed in his eyes. 

“I don’t know, Sir,” Q answers and while he wants to square his shoulders, he lets them slump instead. The sling on his arm makes him look even less threatening.

M still stands taller. Out of the corner of his eye Q sees Bond take a step towards them, fingers of his right hand twitching into a loose fist. Moneypenny stops his movements with a hand on his upper arm. Her eyes are alert, but her posture is purposefully relaxed.

“He wanted you, he addressed you personally, he ‘heard’ about you.” M keeps towering and Q slumps a little more in return. Bond takes another step, Moneypenny’s arm all but forgotten.

“I … I really don’t-“ Q averts his eyes and tugs nervously at his sling. For all intents and purposes he looks like he is genuinely overwhelmed by M’s brash approach. He calmly counts to ten in his head and finally M takes a step back. It takes another count to ten until he feels M’s scrutinizing look leave him and the older man turns his back on him. Only then Q gives an actual answer.

“I have a theory though.”

M doesn’t answer right away, keeps his body averted instead, hands on his hip. For a second the room seems frozen, like everyone is anticipating each other’s next move while holding their breath. Then Bond takes his final few steps past M to stand besides Q.

“Let’s hear it then,” he says, calm and steady. For the first time since he entered the room Q feels unsure.

“I told you that I assumed he picked me because he thought it would be easiest to extort information from me, but now I think that’s not all this is about,” He doesn’t know why but he can’t help but turn to Bond. The agent looks at him patiently, his face the well practiced mask of inviting openness one might use when interrogating a subject.

“So what does he really want?” It’s Moneypenny who asks this time. She keeps her place at M’s side, the older man now moving to lean on the edge of the table beside her. Her voice is calm, but she is the only one refraining from putting on a show, her right foot tapping a nervous rhythm onto the concrete floor. Q suspects that this show of outward emotion is just as calculated as M and Bond’s behavior. For a second he can’t help but miss Tanner. As well as his calm reassuring smile.

“I can’t be sure what the endgame is, but I think this is about CNS.”

“C’s program? But you shut it down.”

“But that’s exactly the point …” Bond huffs before Q can answer. He casts a glance towards Oberhauser through the two-way mirror before continuing. “We might have stopped his operation, blew up his base and shot down his helicopter, but you-“  he shakes his head and the smile that spreads across his lips carries a hint of respect “- you shut down the program that must have taken years to build in a matter of minutes. He can build a new base and buy a new helicopter, heck, he is probably certain that he will get out of here in a matter of days, but the program was what his whole operation revolved around. At the moment the one he is probably most afraid of in this room is you.”

For a moment they all look towards Oberhauser, watching as he idly taps out rhythms on the interrogation table. Q allows himself a quick glance around, taking in his colleges solemn expressions and set jaws. He thinks it helped that Bond said it. It makes it sound more like a fact and less like an excuse.

Finally M lets out a deep sigh and seems to visibly deflate.  “What a clever boy you are …” M quotes from across the room.

“Go home. Both of you.” he tells them then and fixes Bond with a solemn stare. “007 there is nothing official about this anymore and god knows when anything will be back to normal here, but I need you to stay with Q. Keep him safe. You two are to leave the safe house as little as possible.”

“What about Q-Branch?” No matter the current situation, Q can’t help the protective surge that curses through him when it comes to his branch. “I need to work, to run it. I’ve been gone far too long already.”

“That will have to wait.” M tells him and adds before Q can protest further. “Go there, shut down any and all projects that could turn out to have a negative outcome for our mission and then appoint your temporary replacement. Your priority right now is to figure out everything you can about CNS.”

Q wants to argue just out of principle, but in the end he knows that M is right. Judging by how still Bond is besides him, the agent came to the same conclusion. M stares at them for a while before he finally asks “Can I count on you? Both of you?”

“Yes, Sir.” They answer in union and it sounds as if they both fully mean it.

 

* * *

 

 

 

> [M3PHISTO]:    Oh, my dear boy, your code is truly beautiful.
> 
> [CADEL]:          thx  
>                          but you rly dont have to bootlick so much
> 
> [M3PHISTO]:    You rather like I didn't praise you so much? But I do have to admit I'm really proud of  
>                          your developments!
> 
> [CADEL]:          of course you are, you make good money of them_

_There is nothing after that. He worries his thumb between his lips and double checks his data._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          did you think ididnt know  
>                          that you were selling my codes off  
>                          i found the list, the accounts_

_Silence._

_He wants a reaction._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          im not stupid u know_

_No, he needs a reaction. He checks his connection._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          after all it was you who taught me  
>                          im good at what i do_

_He needs something. Anything to show him that this is real. That this person is real._

_He tries to retrace_ M3PHISTOS _signal again. He fails._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          brilliant actually_

_He wants something. This has been going on for far too long. It's just a name. Data in a void. Letters on a screen. He needs more._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          did u rly think i wouldnt be able to keep up?_

_He wants more. He hisses as his teeth break the skin of his thumb._

_There has to be something. Anything. More._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          isnt this what you wanted?_

_But there is silence. He sucks his bleeding thumb into his mouth._

_This was too risky. Maybe this was too risky. Maybe now he lost_ M3PHISTO _for go--_

_\--Oh god._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          come on  
>                          you know imnot mad right?  
>                          you can sell my code alright  
>                          idont care  
>                          are you there?_

_Oh god please no. This is wrong. He knows this is wrong._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          wana see the update on the safe guard we were discussing?_

_He knows it's wrong to feel so helpless without the guidance of an eight letter name on his computer screen. This is wrong. He knows something is wrong._

 

 

> [CADEL]:          are you still there?  
>                          pleasedont be mad_

_This is so wrong. So sosososo--_

 

 

> [M3PHISTO]:    Would you like to meet me my clever boy?

_Oh god yes._

 

* * *

 

When they finally make it to the safe house again, Q is exhausted. Transferring a whole branch into the hands of one of his assistants is a bigger endeavor than one might think, even if said assistant is very qualified. It didn’t help that Bond seemed to hover just mere inches from him at any given moment.

By now it has gotten dark outside and theoretically Q should want nothing more than to crawl into bed. Realistically though, he knows that he is way too wired still, so he goes to the kitchen to make tea instead. He nearly steps onto the shards of his broken mug that still lie scattered on the kitchen floor.

“Oh …” He breaths, because _oh_ , he nearly forgot about this. For a moment his mind wanders to the conversation in Bond’s car. The emotions that grip him feel distantly conflicting, discomfort and comfort in same measures, but he shakes them off in favor of taking off the sling and cleaning up his own mess.  

“You did good, you know,” Bond’s voice seems to come out of nowhere and Q nearly drops the few shards he collected. It’s only then that he realizes how blessedly silent Bond had been on their way here.

Now though the agent seems to have broken his unspoken vow of silence and crouches down beside Q on the floor. He starts gathering up the left over shards from the floor and Q doesn’t protest.

“Excuse me?” Q asks instead trying to regain his composure. He stands up to throw the shards into the bin, leaving Bond crouching on the floor.

“The interrogation,” Bond says, standing up as well, the smirk on his face a show of relaxed curiosity. Q knows this is not what this is about. There is no such thing as a simple motive when it comes to James Bond. There is always an agenda. “You held your own well in there.”

“It was very little of an interrogation to begin with,” Q huffs while he starts to sorts out the tea leaves for a fresh cup. “If anything he interrogated me.”

“Never the less, you didn’t budge and left the room once you realized you weren’t getting any more information out of him,” Bond leans against the kitchen counter beside Q. He shrugs and the smile on his lips turns a little bit more mischievous. “I also think you very nearly pissed him off by addressing him as ‘Oberhauser’ rather than ‘Blofeld’.”

Q can’t help but mirror Bonds smirk, if only just a little. “Well I needed to dictate at least some aspects of the situation.”

“Indeed,” Bond says and it sounds like he means something else entirely. The agent falls eerily silent after that and Q thinks this is what is must feel like just before a tiger’s jaw snaps your neck. While he busies himself with making tea he feels suddenly hyper aware of all his surroundings and everything that resonates with himself. The click of the tea kettle mixes with the pain flaring up in his shoulder as he stretches his arm just a little too far to take out a mug.

“Careful,” Bond’s hand is there, wrapping steady around the wrist of his injured arm just as Q breaths out a quiet hiss. He takes the mug from him with his free hand, fingers of the other one keeping a firm grip. Q feels his breath skip a beat as the feeling of imminent danger collides with an overwhelming sense of security. The tension is just as palpable as it was in the car. This isn’t over he knows.

Their eyes meet and Q can see the mask of openness there again, the same Bond put on when they were still at MI6. The same he observed all those times when he watched over the agent in the field. He tries to turn his wrist but Bond’s grip is rock steady and the only effect his movements have is the resulting pain flaring up in his shoulder.

He knows Bond wants to say something, can particularly feel it on the tip of the others tongue, but for some reason the agent stays silent. They seem frozen like that for incredibly long seconds, Bond’s fingerprints burning into Q’s skin, as the Quartermaster looks up at him like a deer caught in headlights.  It’s then that it occurs to Q that, given how watchful the agent has shown himself at medical, Bonds grip tightening on his wrist must be a subconscious reaction. And suddenly sees it.

Behind all that practiced calculation in Bond’s eyes, behind all the training and oh so many years of experience Q glimpses the sincere concern of a broken man. The impending knowledge that something is wrong beyond his ability to fix it.

“Bond …” Q speaks his name as just a whisper, but the agent tenses as if Q physically touched him. He wants to say something more, formulate an actual sentence, offer some sort of consolation and comfort. But he knows that anything he would say would result in nothing more than a sense of false security. Instead he raises his hand to carefully brush his fingertips over Bond’s neck, letting them rest at his pulse point for just a second. The agent’s pulse seems just one beat too fast.

He knows then that they have reached an impasse; that this simple conversation has turned into something that feels like their fate is going to be decided on the spot, right in this moment. _Make or break_ , Q thinks and everything seems to come to a halt.

A polite cough breaks the tension like it is nothing more than a brittle twig.

They turn towards it in union to see Tanner standing at the kitchen entrance, looking apologetic. “Good evening,” He greets them, holding up a plastic bag filled with takeout containers. The tone of his voice betrays that he is more aware of what is going on in front of him than he probably wants to be. “I brought dinner?”

Something like confusion crosses Bond’s face as he lets go of Q’s wrist and Q can’t say if it’s because he realized that he is actually still holding on to the Quartermaster, or if it’s because he apparently hadn’t heard Tanner coming in. He regains his composure in the blink of an eye. “Excellent.” Bond smiles as he turns to Tanner.

“Mr. Bond, would you mind terribly to do a perimeter check before we eat?” Tanner asks Bond with another apologetic smile. “I would have done it myself, but I thought it might be inappropriate to greet potential assailants holding still fresh takeout bags.”

Before answering Bond glances at him and for a moment Q thinks Bond might refuse, but then the agent just nods with a smirk and goes to put on his coat. “Leave something for me, will you?” He jokes before the click of the safety of his gun is followed by that of a closing door.

Q lets out a long breath and turns to put the kettle on.

He waits for the tension to bleed out of his shoulders as he listens to the water starting to boil, but it doesn’t happen. For a second he resigns himself to the idea that this is just how it is going to be from now on, that there will always be this tension, shoulders drawn tight and muscles ready to spring into action.  But then he hears the rustling of the takeout bags being more thrown than placed on the kitchen table and he realizes that the tension in the air isn’t his own.

 “You- “ Tanner cuts off his own sentence, but the way he speaks just this one word seems to promise the end of the world. Q turns around to face him.

Tanner looks small, lost even. He is obviously tired and reasonably so, but the slump of his shoulders seems to originate from more than a lack of sleep. In all the years Q has known him, he’s never seen him like this. Exhausted? Angry? Yes. But not lost, never lost. Not like this.

“We need to tell them.”

 

* * *

 

_He is probably going to have a panic attack. No. Actually, he is 100 % sure he is going to have a panic attack. After all he is going to meet the most important person in his life today._

_He taps his feet nervously on the floor until one of the waiter’s looks at him annoyed. He sticks out his tongue and keeps tapping his feet. He is 18 now, but he looks so young he can still get away with being childish. After the second annoyed look he starts tapping his fingers in unison with his feet. He has to admit that he is getting a little nervous, on top of the pending panic attack. Especially considering the place and time of their meeting; in front of a popular Café at midday with people buzzing around him. A good location to meet a friend, yes, but the person you, for the last three years, spoke too only through highly secure online transmissions? Not so much._

_With all the security_ M3PHISTO _always insisted on he would have suspected their meeting place to be some dodgy back alley or an abandoned warehouse. Maybe he thought Cadel wouldn't show up if the place was too creepy. As if he wouldn't go anywhere for--_

_"Heinrich Faust?"_

_His hands and feet freeze in mid motion._ That name _. That can't be real._

_"Wha-- me, that's me ...", he stammers, awkwardly waving at the bike courier standing on the sidewalk. The young man frowns at him for a second, given that old name he obviously must be confused by his young looks, especially with his rumpled shirt and cord trousers underlining them. He knows he probably looks like his mother picked out his clothes for him, but he isn't yet at the point where he understands that appearance is important when you are trying to deceive someone._

_"Ok, yea. This is for you, sir. Sign here please." The courier places a rectangular package in front of him and hands him a pad to sign his name. He does, absentmindedly, his eyes already roaming the package for any kind of clue as to who send it._

_"Excuse me", he asks after he's done signing, "Who are you delivering this for?"_

_"Doesn't it say on the package? Just a second ... ah, here! Um ... ", another frown, "It's from a guy called Mephistopheles? That can't be correct ..."_

_"No, no, that's all right", he grins, "I know who sent it, thank you."_

_The courier frowns at him more and he ignores him in favour of inspecting the package, until he eventually leaves. The package is rather heavy, but flat and there is something rattling inside. His heart is beating so fast he can't even be mad about the fact that M3PHISTO didn't show up in person. This is it, this is his first clue. He hastily throws some bills on the table to pay for his tea and makes his way to his apartment, where he knows he will be secure. He changes train lines several times, takes a cab for two stops and keeps the package clutched tightly to his chest for the short distances he has to walk. He only really breathes out the second he bolts his door behind him._

_He nearly trips over his shoes when he slips out of them to fall on his bed. He tries to be methodical with opening the package, but his fingers shake of excitement and he tears the brown paper in some places. The first thing that falls into his hands when he opens the package is a letter. It reads_ CADEL _._

 

 

> My dear boy,
> 
> I am truly sorry for not being able to meet you in person.  
>  To apologize I left you a little present.  
>  It is, as you will find, a test of sorts.  
>  Look at it very carefully and then tell me what you think.
> 
> Do you really want to meet me?
> 
> In love,
> 
> _M3PHISTO_

_He rereads the letter at least twice before he pulls a sleek laptop out of the package. He turns it around in his hands checking on any kind of outside modulation. He knows he has to tread carefully with this. When he finds none he powers it up. And grins._

_The fail safe protocols that guard the content of the laptop are his own. He takes them apart without any kind of effort. And gasps._

_Because what he is greeted with, what lies beneath the gates of his code is not what he expected. No._ Oh god no _. He expected another location, another clue maybe, he expected anything but this._

_"Oh my god--", he presses his hands over his mouth so he doesn't have to hear his own voice break._

_This--_

_He feels nauseous._ Oh shit _._

 _This is everything. Every little detail he didn't yet know. It's everything beyond ruining credit scores and_ M3PHISTO _selling his code. It's everything from killing for MI6 to starting civil wars. It's everything from detailed plans to gruesome corpses-- NO_

_"No, this can't be true, this can't be true, this can't be true--", he chants for himself while he grabs his own laptop and hacks into MI6 servers with quick and sloppy moves._

_"--this can't be true, this can't be, no, no--", he chants as he sorts through the files of one Tiago Rodriguez and confirms that, yes, everything he just read is true._

_"--no, no, no--", he chants as his security system alerts him that his careless attack on MI6 serves has been detected. He erases his tracks in the MI6 archives, but by then he knows it’s already too late._

_He bites his lip to stop chanting, because he knows he is going to be sick._

_He erases the hard drive of_ M3PHISTO’s _laptop on pure instinct, rips the shell apart with smashing it against the headboard of his bed and then sets it on fire in his dustbin._

_He is able to see the first flames rise before he doubles over and vomits all over his carpet._

_He is still lying on the floor in his own vomit when a man calling himself Tanner points a gun to his head and tells him he is being detained under the orders of Her Majesty’s Secret Service._

 

* * *

 

“We need to tell them,” Tanner continues after what feels like agonizing hours and Q can’t help to grip the counter behind him with both hands. “I saw the interrogation tape. We need- we have to tell them.”

Q knows what he means, knew that this was coming even and he has planned for this of course, after all it was only a matter of time. But it still makes him feel dread pooling at the pit of his stomach. More pressingly though, the fact that Tanner is the one to breach this topic makes him feel slightly confused.

“M knows, doesn’t he?” He asks and he knows that this is probably not the question Tanner wanted him to ask, but it still seems to be the right one.

There is no imminent answer.

“Doesn’t he?” Q asks again, this time a little sharper

“No”

“You didn’t tell him? Why didn’t you tell him?”

“Because I-“ Tanner cuts himself off yet again, instead making a step towards him. He seems even lost for words now, not for lack of them in his mind, but at a loss of to express them. He takes another step until he is just an arm’s length away from Q. “Because look at you. You are not-“ Tanner shakes his head again, gesturing at him. “You are not that person, not anymore. You never have been and I thought I could give you the clean start you truly deserve.”

 _But I don’t, I really, really don’t_ , Q nearly blurts out, nearly breaks under the look of pure fondness, the look of someone truly believing in him. Instead he averts his eyes, takes a deep breath and digs his hands into the edge of the counter. He counts to ten.

“Bill,” He says and the look of devote apology as he looks up again is well practiced. “We are talking about my criminal history. You can’t imagine what it means to me that you think like this, but M needs to know. Especially at times like this, Monneypenny and Bond too, they should know.“

“Yes, yes I know. That’s why I brought it up.” Tanner nods, but it sound like he would rather say something else. He takes another step forward, seemingly subconsciously, and places a hand carefully on Qs upper arm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. These are my mistakes.” Q smiles at him and the softness at the edge of it is real, while the sentence following it is not. “I’m only grateful that you can see me for who I am now.”

Tanner returns the smile, open and bright. “Always.” He says before pulling Q into his arms.

 “You would tell me” he demands silently as he wraps his arms around Q. “If something was wrong, you would tell me.”

“Of course I would, you know I would.” Q answers with just enough of a plea in his voice to make it believable. 

 

* * *

 

_They offer him a deal. They will drop the charges against him in exchange for his work and future services._

_Tanner sits across from him in the interrogation room and looks him straight in the eyes, "You are too valuable to waste away in prison," he tells him._

_He is still in shock, he is still feeling as if he's going to pass out any second, but he is not stupid, so he nods and takes the deal. He promises them insight in his work and tells them about how he made his whole year in college fail their mid terms, and how he used to run credit scams just because he was bored._

_"What was on the laptop that you torched?" Tanner asks in the end right before they get down to the paperwork._

_He swallows and clenches his hands beneath the table. This is it. This is the chance to tell them about_ M3EPHISTO _. About the fact that, for the last three years, he has been in contact with an agent they thought dead. That what he found on that laptop would make them wish he actually was._

_He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. Tanner crooks his head and raises an eyebrow at him._

_"What was on that laptop, boy?"_

_"Nothing," he swallows, "Nothing I couldn't recreate, that is. Just a simple failsafe protocol."_

_"Well you should have used that when you hacked us," Tanner tells him casually and he knows that the agent doesn't believe a word he said. It doesn't matter as long as he is of value to them._

_He will learn how to be a good liar in time._

* * *

 

They tell them right away.

About how Q came to MI6, about the illegal shenanigans he pulled in his youth. About how the old M knew instantly how valuable he could be, but that it was Tanner who convinced her to give the boy a second chance, a fresh start with a new identity. How Tanner took him in after that, showing that clever and naive kid with unwavering patience what it meant to truly belong somewhere.

And it’s strange really; because they are all hustled together on the couch in the safe house, tea, or in Bond’s case Scotch, in their hands and it feels so familiar. Cosy even. Like they gathered here as friends, having a drink together after work.

And while Bond’s face is an uninterruptable mask and M looks more than disapproving through the whole explanation, in the end everyone eases up as soon as Tanner starts to tell them all the embarrassing stories of how he tried to teach Q how to function in the real world. 

“I always knew it, to be honest,” Monnepenny laughs, leaning back into the couch. “You put way too much effort into being proper; of course you started your career as a criminal.”

“So you lied to me this morning,” M interjects before anyone else can get a word in. He doesn’t look as disapproving as he did before and certainly not as threatening as he did in the morning, but his voice still makes everyone sit a bit straighter.

“Not consciously, sir,” Q says, putting the same level of sincerity in his voice as he did in the morning, “Until Tanner watched the interrogation footage and confronted me with it, I didn’t make the connection. To be honest, I still have very little actual information and sadly I doubt that this will change.” 

“How so?”

“I built up a reputation for myself and I think that is what Oberhauser was ultimately playing at, in addition to CNS of course, which I still think is very relevant. But I spoke to a lot of people back then, shared my code on numerous hacker forums. There is no telling how much he knows or where he got his information from.”

M seems to mull this over for a bit. Finally he lets himself fall back into the couch as well. “I’m going to need you to speak to Oberhauser again,” He says with a sigh of resignation.

“I know,” Q answers and pulling his legs closer towards himself is only half for making it seem that he is dreading that encounter.

They all leave quickly after that. After all it’s not easy running a secret service with just five people. Bond stays behind with him, ever watchful. They sit on the couch in silence for a while, even after they hear the other’s cars drive off. 

“All of this really makes your `causing damage in your pyjamas` comment shine in a whole light,” Bond says after a while and it’s the first time he actually speaks, safe for small huffs of amusement during Tanner’s stories.  

Q can’t help but laugh at that, but he doesn’t have it in him to return some sort of snarky comment. By now it is well after midnight and he feels so exhausted not even the pain in his shoulder registers much anymore. Still, he is reluctant to leave the couch and make his way to the bedroom, to be alone with his thoughts.  

“Speaking of which – you need to sleep,” Bond observes when he doesn’t answer.

“I don’t feel like sleeping.”

“I can clearly see that.”

Q looks over at him blinking in slight irritation. He was expecting some kind of order or a charmingly snarky remark, but not this. He wasn’t expecting for Bond to see through him like that. Before he can think of some witty reply the agent stands up without another word leaving Q alone on the couch.

He tries to theorize about what is going on and what he should do about it, but he feels the exhaustion pull at his thoughts too much to actually come up with something substantial. In the end it wouldn’t have mattered because even wide awake he wouldn’t have suspected Bond to come back with Q’s blanket and pillow under his arm.

“What are you-“ Q starts, but trails off as Bond throws the blanket over one side of Qs legs. He watches in confused amazement as Bond sits down again, stretching his legs out on the sorter L shape of the couch and then props the pillow up on his thigh.

“Tanner told me that you insisted on this couch because it would be comfortable to sleep on,” Bond fluffs the pillow up a bit more as if to underline his statement. Then he beckons Q more clearly with a nod of his head towards the pillow. “So sleep.”

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or maybe it’s the promise of someone watching over him while he sleeps, but it doesn’t take long until Q pulls the pullover over his head and puts his glasses on the coffee table. As he slips fully under the covers and rests his head carefully on the pillow, he thinks that maybe it’s also indulging in a false sense of intimacy that he can’t have.

“Now that’s better,” Bond huffs and Q can hear the smile evident in his voice. He wants to look up to confirm it, but for a moment he is distracted by the warmth of Bond seeping through the pillow. He closes his eyes for just a second and it’s nearly enough to take him under.

He feels Bonds pulling the blanket a bit higher towards his chin and he absentmindedly wonders if Bond remembered Tanner doing this, or if it’s just a coincidence. After that the agent leaves his arm resting softly at Q’s side. It should feel like an intrusion, too close, filled with tension just like in the kitchen a few hours earlier, but it doesn’t.

 “You are still hiding something,” Bond murmurs just as Q is about to fall asleep.

 Q is not sure he was meant to hear it, so he stays silent, wrapping the blanket tighter around him. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, if he might have already fallen asleep for a while, but the feeling of Bond combing a strand of wayward hair from his forehead makes him open his eyes one last time.

“Don’t you feel safe?” Bond asks into the still of the house and it sounds soft and sincere.

Q sinks deeper into the pillow.

“I do,” he says in the end, just as he feels himself drift off to sleep for good.

He means it.

 

* * *

 

“You are still hiding something,” Bond says and he thinks about how he felt on the bridge, when adrenalin rushed through his veins and about how Q’s smile took him by surprise on this very same couch.

He thinks about these things while he brushes a wayward strand of hair from Q’s forehead and he compares them to how he feels now. The calm readiness he feels settling low in his gut, how he is perfectly content with just feeling Q’s hair under his fingertips, but how he wouldn’t hesitate to rip everyone apart who dares to come too close.

How he knows Q would look at him the same way in either scenario.

“Don’t you feel safe?” he asks without expecting a reply, but truly curious.

“I do,” Comes the soft answer and he can’t help the smile that spreads on his lips.

Bonds hand comes to rest on the blanket over Q’s stomach just as the Quartermaster falls asleep and he thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to think at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! It’s a new chapter!
> 
> I hope the length is making up a bit for how late it is ... 
> 
> I want to promise you that the next one is gonna be quicker, but sadly I have to do applications for my masters degree, so we’ll see. 
> 
> Also, I'm sure most of you will have picked up on that reference already, but [M3PHISTO] is an allusion to Mephistopheles who portrays the devil in Goethe's Faust. Heinrich Faust is the main character of the story, who is tricked and played by Mephistopheles.
> 
> Thank you so much in advance for your patience and feedback is always welcome :)  
> Your comments mean the world to me, I just sadly never have time to reply, but don’t think for one second that I’m not reading them, bc I do. A lot.


End file.
